Identity
by Luxuride
Summary: Oneshot, set after the Dark Knight. Gordon begins to wonder if Batman is really the only one wearing a mask.


**Identity  
Rating: K/K+  
Summary: Oneshot, set after _the Dark Knight_. Gordon begins to wonder if Batman is really the only one wearing a mask.  
Characters: Gordon centric, mentions of Bruce, and a brief appearance of Batman.  
****Warning: Slight spoilers for TDK, but**** I pray to God that you've already seen it.  
****Disclaimer: I don't own **_**the Dark Knight**_**; it's Nolan's masterpiece, not mine.**

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Making his way back down the stairs into the MCU building, the commissioner heaved a ragged sigh. No Batman tonight. Gordon could only hope that he was busy taking down Gotham's criminals instead of bleeding out in an alley somewhere.

The last few weeks had been long and tiresome, yet he felt little had been accomplished. It seemed that his men had spent more time going after Batman rather than capturing and imprisoning the true criminals that Batman was still apprehending and leaving for them to lock away.

Apparently Batman wasn't fairing too well either. Gordon had spoken briefly to him on the roof the night before, and the dark knight had been sporting a busted lip and what looked like a bruised eye under all the black makeup. He had carried himself carefully, moving a little slower than usual. A knife or a gunshot wound to the stomach, Gordon guessed after watching the man for the few brief minutes that he had spent with him.

He truly despised the current situation that they had found themselves in. He had to pretend to care about capturing Batman; he had to let all the snide, rude, and bitter things said about the caped crusader slide; he had to feign hate towards the true hero of Gotham; and he despised every minute of it. Only Detective Stephens, the only man in the unit that Gordon fully trusted anymore, knew that he still met with the bat; and even he didn't know the full story. He didn't ask questions, and for that Gordon was grateful.

Shaking his head, he moved into his dimly lit office. These days he seemed to spend more time in this building than at home with his wife and kids. As he fell into his office chair, he wished that he was home now, but an ungodly stack of paperwork looked up at him smugly. Groaning audibly, he couldn't make himself pick up the pen and do it.

Instead, he picked up the day's neatly folded newspaper. He stared more than read with strained eyes, skimming words but not fully taking in their message. He glanced at the pictures and stopped on one in particular, and he fought not to roll his eyes as he read the heading of the article. "Drunken Fight or Yet Another Spelunking Accident?"

_Another accident, Mr. Wayne? What a klutz, _he thought as he took a sip and grimaced at the taste of his black, lukewarm coffee. When he took in the details of the photo, he nearly spewed the bitter mouthful all over the desk.

The candid photo showed Bruce Wayne slipping out of his flashy new car with sunglasses poised to be donned. It seemed perfectly normal, but the paparazzo had been close enough to capture a busted lip and a shiner that the sunglasses would have soon covered up.

No, spelunking was unlikely. Gordon didn't know of any caves that could throw punches…

He sagged back into his chair, feeling shaken. _No, it couldn't be. _ He rubbed his tired eyes and folded the paper before tossing it back down onto his desk. What he needed was sleep, he tried to assure himself. The paperwork could wait until morning, surely. He stood up abruptly and retrieved his coat, and he was sure to lock the office door behind him as he exited.

He managed to keep his thoughts from the subject during the cool walk to the Gotham City subway system, but the moment he sat down and the train started moving, his thoughts wandered right back to the newspaper.

_I'm imagining things. There is no way in hell that Bruce Wayne is the man I've been working with for the last year. No way he's Gotham's last hope… _Gordon sighed and sadly admitted to himself,_ He's an _idiot.

And abruptly his mind flashed back to the chaotic day when the Joker had blown up Gotham General Hospital, when Wayne had wrecked his Lamborghini and kept a truck driver from hitting the van carrying his employee Mr. Reese. Gordon hadn't believed Wayne when he had passed it off as 'just trying to catch the light', and he most certainly hadn't missed the pointed look Wayne had shot Reese as the man had been led away to another waiting van. Perhaps it indeed had been a coincidence, but it seemed even more unlikely now. He noted in surprise that Mr. Reese had never released Batman's secret identity to the press, not even now that the dark knight was being condemned of five murders.

Batman was self-sacrificing. He had allowed his reputation to be stained in order to keep Dent's clean. Bruce Wayne was a rich playboy living the life of a prince – how was _he_ self-sacrificing?

What of all the women Bruce Wayne supposedly slept with? Would they not notice splotchy bruises and scars?

His mind leaped to the press conference that Dent had held when the real Batman was supposed to turn himself in. Bruce Wayne had been there, and Gordon had had no idea why a billionaire would simply arrive at such an event just to stand against the far back wall and observe. He had watched the man curiously and been aware that he had shifted slightly when Dent asked for the real Batman to come forward. He had only frozen when Dent had proclaimed that _he _was the bat, and Wayne's eyes had held sheer surprise. But then again, hadn't everyone? Maybe he had just wanted a better view…

He had wondered more than once why Batman had gone after Rachel instead of Dent on the night that the Joker had had them kidnapped and stuck in explosion-rigged buildings. Part of him had wondered if the dark knight had known that the Joker would switch the addresses, but it was made clear later when Batman confronted Dent that he had indeed gone after Rachel because his main concern was saving her.

"_Then why was I the only person who lost _everything_?"_

"_You weren't." _

Gordon had never heard Batman's voice so bare as it had been that night. He had sounded so _young_.

And was it a coincidence that Rachel Dawes had also been Bruce Wayne's childhood best friend? Gordon had known that Batman and Rachel had been connected somehow – when the fear toxins had been released in the narrows, _she _had been the one to deliver the antidote that Batman had had manufactured on a small scale.

What about the fact that Batman had started appearing at the same time Bruce Wayne had suddenly reappeared from the dead?

Was it just _another _coincidence that when Batman had traveled to Hong Kong to fetch Lau, Bruce had been supposedly on a cruise while a man from Wayne's company had gone to Hong Kong for a meeting with Lau? He had heard the rumors in the tabloids that Bruce had up and left on a plane during the cruise, leaving his British butler with a ship full of Russian ballerinas.

And the gear he had witnessed Batman use? Two variations of a Kevlar suit, grappling hooks and capes made of some kind of memory cloth, and not to mention the _car _– yeah, Gordon _still_ wanted one of those. He was sure all of it had to have cost a fortune. What average citizen could possibly _dream _of affording such things?

Gordon could count on one hand the number of times he had spoken to Bruce Wayne in person, including the tragic day the both witnessed his parent's murder. The man was carefree and appeared slightly dense, but Gordon had always felt that there was something had been off. His charming smiles looked convincing enough, but they never reached his dark eyes. They remained haunted and were often accompanied by shadowy bruising underneath them; if he had asked, he was sure Wayne would have answered that he had spent too many late nights partying.

Though they had never spoken of their first meeting, Gordon was sure that Bruce remembered him. He had always listened to the commissioner intently, not feigning interest like Jim had witnessed him do with countless others. He had always wondered why Batman had sought him out and told them how they were "two." How had he known that Gordon was one of the guys who hadn't been corrupted? Could that possibly be the reason?

He felt the subway train slowing and realized that he was at his stop. Gathering his things, he exited and began the short walk home. Upon arrival, he fumbled with his keys at the door only to freeze at the sound of movement nearby. His hand flew to his gun in reflex, but he had a pretty good idea who was there.

"Long night at the office?" Gordon asked conversationally as he turned his attention to the object of his earlier thoughts. Batman himself was perched on a beam, the same one he had balanced himself on during one of their first meetings at Gordon's home.

Even with a shadow cast over half of his face, Gordon was sure he saw a brief flicker of a smirk.

"Murmurs on the street say that the Joker has something up his sleeve in Arkham," He growled.

It didn't surprise Gordon. Men like the Joker would forever be a thorn in the side of Gotham – red and inflamed. He'd continue to bring chaos down on all who surrounded him until the day he died.

"I'll pass the memo along to Warden Sharp."

There was a moment of silence, and Gordon would have assumed the dark knight was gone if it hadn't been for the ruffling of his cape in the wind. "He'll find a way out," he said lowly after a minute.

The commissioner could only sigh. "I know, but we'll catch him again. We are still _two." _

There was that hint of that smirk again, and in a blink, the evanescent dark knight had faded into the shadows.

_Was _it so hard to believe that Bruce Wayne was Batman – that Batman was Bruce Wayne? If that were the case, the man was a brilliant actor who played two different facades, and Gordon seriously wondered what the real Bruce Wayne was like.

How could he have been so blind? He had had all the clues laid out in front of him, and yet a tabloid had been the thing that caught his attention and opened his eyes.

He smiled sardonically and shook his head as he opened his front door. Some detective he was.

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**-fin-**

**A/N: R****eview? This is my second TDK fic, but the first one I've posted. What do you think? I want to know. :)  
****Also, I just wanted to apologize for grammatical/spelling errors in my fics. I don't have a beta, and re-reading your own work paired with a hateful Microsoft Word isn't exactly foolproof.**


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